poetry & things


Altar of dawn

In this desert

I touch the ocean within,

here where I abandon all plans,

I spend hours watching cloud formations

of flowers blooming violet, red.

I travel to the sanctuary of the soul

each morning, sit silent

at the altar of dawn.

Yaqui man

You are a traveler of the South lands

brown, a leathered skin coyote

desert walker of the Sonoran sands

crafty, black magic witch

a shaman, lucid dreamer

Yaqui Indian spell weaver

of visions, of paintings in the sand

mixing colors, peyote flowers

red, the melting of the aloe bowers

dark blood, the blooming agave towers

thick with snakes, the fire and hiss

that burns black of sacaton grass

the quiver and flash of flying sparks

igniting night, time traveling to the stars.

Woman of sea and moon

Ocean swimming, buoyant blue

salt encrusted hair of jewels

seaweed shimmering, waves entangling

savoring, deep her belly breath of sea

with a mermaid tail, to flash in hues of green

wearing rings and pearls, she swirls in a sea of stars

radiantly, far below the moon.

Winter Sea

Winter – your face, of ice and snow

the blowing cold, of sailing northward on

lost in a flailing storm

of thundering, blackness

bleak sea of the nearly drowned

wicked, the splitting williwaw groan

the haunting of the howl and moan

To travel

I am looking at maps, constellations and planets

plotting routes to drive, to hike this country

seems I would stagnate and die

were I to stay put all of the time

my eyes scale topographies

like braille, my fingers feel

the green of flowering fields

the rain running down hills

always I dream of skies

I envy birds flying over

in cities, I don’t seem to settle

pace this floor, a caged animal

daydream of wilderness walks,

spending nights watching stars fall

the heavenly peace of it all.

This tea

This tea, I steep

red apple, your kiss

alizarin crimson, wet

impossibly sweet

you soothe, I drink

your lingering lips

poured with honey milk

by the fire, consumed

of love infused

with herbs and leaves

this tea, I drink.

Morning colors

In the morning red hibiscus flowers

yesterday’s petals have fallen to the ground

a hummingbird briefly hovers

in flashes, green iridescent feathered

soon the silver sun comes from behind clouds

reflections, in spectrum colors

of painted sky, brush strokes

in watercolors of dawn

the heart, a lotus flower

center of the soul

that opens.

In the deep end

I stay awake with stars, thinking of your eyes

amber fields, flecked with golden moons

your lips, red cast by secret coral worlds

swim, my hands you catch in woven nets

roped hair of salt and seaweed curls

hold my breath, catch and save myself

nightly, in the deep end, just before I drown.

In Dragoon with you

I cannot lose the images, though I try

still the memories of Dragoon imbue my mind

evenings beneath agave moons, full bloomed

the silhouetted century plant flowers

the day’s last light, the final sun shadows

our night hikes under Venus skies

signaled the fall, the bright blinking call

of night sweeping stars, and too the flashing,

the sparkling gold of our two souls

unearthed amid the giant stones

ancient, sacred through the ages

in the moments of truth

when love finds a home.


love me

elemental as

wind, water, fire

wild in billowing fields

drenched watery wet in sweat

of all other things make me forget

igniting dreams of lightening steam

all the ordinary world evaporating

Desert day

On days like this

cool, with little winds

desert birds forage for sticks

they build nests perched in cactus

some build green in palo verde trees

always I think of baby birds in spring

hatchlings, the fledglings that fly

I travel far beyond the noise of towns

watch the movement of cooling clouds

the roundness of rain upon the ground

the grey banked scurrilous skies

of hurried birds, their silhouettes before a storm

daisies that close, cold amid the stones

beneath where snakes and lizards go

slither and crawl in this landscape of saguaros

and I, ever tethered can only dream to fly.

Desert bones

Ashen grey, weathered wood

splintered, white bone

hollowed by the desert sun

skull and backbones

laid to rest, wind blown

sunk in sifting sands, exposed

by wet washing squalls

drinking water into steam

interwoven, dead with weeds

iridescent beetles and scorpions

glints of pyrite, diamond stones

the haunting wind, that moans

wild through hollows and holes.


Your heart – all knowing, that finds me

blooming, a lotus flower unfurling

sepals and petals, morning yellow

of golden birds, gilded meadows

of grasses green, your wisdom eyes

of flashing fields that shine

we are infinitely interwoven by

the sacred that is unspoken

by all that is divine.

Winters like this

Cold clouds, white in the greying skies

deep, they loom in the snowy heights

a frozen state, this silent place

where we have come

Ice, thick walled, that waits for spring

the trickle of water, that flows beneath

to see beyond cloud occlusions

our doleful delusions

Buried by northerly drifts of snow

our love, cold and far below

banked and piled high

lost to winter’s long goodbye

Tricky weather

Only a desert of blowing dust

a junk yard of weathered metal rust

the brutal blare of scorching sun

the cold of winter’s raining snow

an ever changing, tricky season

a killing storm without reason

only a metaphor to explore

the hot and cold – of you

that I deplore.

Some lonely place

When you pass this way

will you think of our long burning hours

the melting, the rendering as one,

radiant, the raveling of our two souls?

Or will you think only of the untangling,

the tattering of our love – apart?

Will the evening shadows cast

a glow across the prairie fields,

the flowers that we picked?

Or will a wistful wind brush your face,

indelibly, now in some lonely place

where we once stood?

Salt water

First the soft biting

lips and all the rest

your hands, this landscape

a smooth curved road

of breath hot summer, the swelter

this endless sky, an ocean to discover

salt water of my lover

Of the ocean

You are of the ocean

of lime, salt water green seaweed

clinging, brown threaded, verily suspended

ebbing in the far off edges, unseen

steeped in luminous moons, mad colored

a time traveler, plumbing ageless depths of sea

strung with opulent pearls, swallowed by hourglass sands

a light discovered, bright in the shoal shimmering lands.

Fragmented dream

The air here is slow, it breathes like steam

a fog bank hovers, settles within

time does not tick ahead

I stare at minute hands

this room is silent snow

falling, colored blue – then drifts

cold through broken windows

a fragmented dream

of you


On my doorstep a poetry book, you left

cold with night winds, shivering words

written in your hand, poems I never read

I saw the way you tried to pretend

like there was something, somehow to mend

that night you descended like an angel

maybe Gabriel, sweetly musical

while Christmas songs played on the radio

I watched as holiday lights flew by

all the while your angelic disguise beguiled

felt the weight of deep denial

but I blame the stark desert moon

blame your entrancing wicked eyes

our foolish lonesome desires

and still I don’t regret

that night, the blue hot,

burning of the fire.

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